Available to Chat

by Sutton, Jacy

  “You have a gorgeous smile,” he said.

  She kissed him languidly. She moved her hands from cupping his chin and slid them around to the back of his head, trying to pull him deeper into her embrace. She felt that rush again as they kissed, that heat from the feel of his chest, that exquisite wetness as his hardness pressed against her. As if they were one, Olivia rose to take him in, and the sensation of his fullness moving deeper and deeper inside her made her gasp. She closed her eyes to drown in the feeling.

  “Liv,” he begged. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”

  She obeyed. The intensity of his gaze thrilled her. She felt as if every part of their bodies fused together: eyes, chest, loins. His thrusts guided her and exhilarated her. As his breathing quickened, she kept her eyes locked with his. She kept opening her lips to whisper to him, to unburden herself, and when his hands grasped hold of her firm, round cheeks, intensifying the thrusts, she was there again, on the abyss. Without inhibition or thought she said, “I love you.”

  His breath nearly stopped. Then he pulled her body tighter to his, squeezing her so she felt light-headed. Then he whispered in a rough, commanding voice, “Come with me now, Liv.”

  She dropped her head back and, with the next thrust, she lingered briefly on the peak till he repeated, slowly and commandingly, “Come right now.”

  She cried out “Jake” and let the wave of ecstasy lift her to the peak, then beyond, right alongside him. She grasped him tightly as if she would lose the rush if their bodies separated even an inch.

  Long moments later, still cradling her protectively in his arms, he whispered to her, his voice catching. “Tell me again, Liv.”

  She knew without question what he wanted to hear. “I love you, Jake.” The thrill of speaking the sweet words aloud was nearly as satisfying as making love to him.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  THE MORNING SUNLIGHT shone through the crack in the curtains and landed half a foot from him, illuminating his beautiful profile. Still naked, Olivia rolled to her side to stare. She wanted to tousle his hair or caress his cheek, but he needed this sleep so she contented herself with imagining future mornings waking up beside him. He must have sensed her watching him. With his eyes still closed he whispered, “Morning, Liv.”

  “Morning.” She scooted closer to him, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. He let it rest loosely behind her back.

  She gently kissed his naked chest. Sweet, little kisses. Then she began moving up toward his lips. She felt that slight tug, the beginning of desire.

  He squeezed her once, tightly. “I’m gonna hop in the shower.” He gently extricated himself and rolled to his side of the bed.

  She grabbed his hand and smiled wickedly. “How big is that shower?”

  He touched her chin with his thumb and forefinger. Actually chucked it. His lips curved up in a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  Olivia suddenly got the notion if one of the hotel towels were nearby, he’d roll it up and swat her on the ass.

  “I’ll buy you breakfast when I get out,” he said.

  She lay down in the part of the bed where the sunbeam hit. Closing her eyes, she pictured that moment when she’d first seen him, standing outside, looking at the moon. She could feel his embrace, hear his voice as he’d whispered, “Olivia.”

  She immersed herself in the memory of their lovemaking. She tried to recall the exact moment when he told her he loved her. After thinking about it for a bit, it occurred to her that actually, he’d asked her to say it. Olivia opened her eyes, focusing on the stucco popcorn ceiling tiles and thought, Really it’s the same thing, though, isn’t it?

  Olivia felt restless. She climbed out of bed and stepped to the large mirror, just to the right of the TV. A few smudged traces of mascara clung to her eyelashes. She tried to pat down the frizziest of her curls. Sighing, she turned away.

  She found her underwear scrunched in a ball on one side of the bed, her jeans similarly entwined beside them. She put yesterday’s panties back on and tried to smooth some of the creases in her Levi’s, without too closely studying the floor the jeans had lain on all night.

  Her bra and sweater, also in a clump, lay on the other side of the bed. Once dressed, she knocked on the bathroom door. “Can I come in?” she called. “I have to pee.”

  “Can you wait?” Jake asked, through the closed door. She heard his voice catch. “I’ll just be another minute.”

  Walking back to the main room, she began to wonder what kind of a breakfast eater Jake was. Pancakes? Eggs? Oatmeal and coffee? She knew exactly what Mike would order. A bowl of cereal, something plain and nutritious like Corn Flakes and a tall glass of orange juice. Maybe toast if he were really hungry.

  She tried to picture herself sitting across from Jake, sipping her half-coffee and half-milk with one–fake-sugar concoction. What would they discuss? In her mind, he perched at the far end of the booth, his butt barely half on a sticky, red Naugahyde bench. He’d look awkwardly at everything but her.

  Olivia became painfully aware she needed to use the bathroom. She decided to go to the hotel lobby. On the nightstand, she spotted a small promotional pad with a picture of a generic American Inn, although it looked light-years more attractive than the one she stood in. Beside it she found a pen, also customized with the hotel logo and a 1-800 number. She’d just write Jake a quick note, she thought—tell him she’d be back in a moment, but a sudden impression struck her. She imagined Jake coming out of the bathroom, towel slung around his hips, a few water droplets clinging to his chest hair. He would find the room empty. She could imagine the look on his face. She knew what it would be. Relief.

  Olivia pushed away the pad, sliding it to the far side of the nightstand. He’d know. She grabbed her car keys and walked out the door, shutting it quietly behind her. Within minutes she was back in her car, silently speeding north on the highway toward home.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  THE ROOM WAS PITCH BLACK now. It had been light this afternoon when she’d fallen asleep, which added to her discombobulation. Olivia’s mouth felt chalky. Her tongue tasted like day-old coffee mixed with sawdust.

  The computer still rested on her lap, just as it had when she’d fallen asleep. She tapped listlessly on the spacebar to wake the machine up, wishing she could be roused as easily. Her Facebook page was already open. The message icon grayed out. There was nothing. No notes from friends. Not a word from Jake.

  Her thoughts drifted back to the long, solitary drive home. The words it’s okay, just breathe had looped through her mind relentlessly, the way she’d replayed favorite songs in high school.

  When she’d reached home, the house remained as she’d left it, a smattering of lights still on. She found the stove off, but the soup pot still a quarter full with dried noodles stuck in globs of congealed chicken broth. Olivia had looked at the tiny mess as she’d walked past, but had felt too drained to carry the lightweight pan to the sink to rinse it. She had trudged past the kitchen straight to the club chair.

  Awake now, Olivia checked the clock on the computer screen. 10:17 p.m. She’d slept nearly seven hours already.

  Dropping her head into her hands, she rubbed her temples. Her forehead felt slick and oily. She should get up. Wash her face. Brush her teeth. Run a comb through her hair. But the energy required for those tasks overwhelmed her, and she remained motionless in the dark, staring at her unchanging Facebook page.

  She thought about quickly messaging Jake. Something casual. Just to let him know she’d made it home safely. She could ask him if he’d left the hotel. She opened the chat window and began to type. She reread her words, then erased them. She tried again. No matter how simple the sentence she crafted, how creatively upbeat, it read like desperation.

  Olivia leaned her head back against the chair and shut her eyes, and the mantra welled up again. It’s okay. Just breathe.

  She must have fallen back to sleep, because the next sound she heard was the door opening and Dan
iel walking in, Mike following behind. Now the family room was bathed in midmorning light, and Olivia squinted as the sunshine assaulted her sensitive eyes.

  “Hi, Mom,” Daniel called.

  “Hello.”

  “I’m starving,” he said, walking to the refrigerator. “Is there anything to eat?”

  “I think there’s some lunch meat.” Her voice sounded rickety.

  Daniel continued rummaging for food, but Mike came across the kitchen to look at her.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, coming to her side.

  She glanced up and smacked her lips, trying to dispel the rancid taste in her mouth.

  “You don’t look good,” Mike said. “Are you sick?”

  “I think I am, a bit.”

  Mike put his cold palm to Olivia’s face and she jerked away at the sting of his chilled fingers.

  Daniel stood above her now, too, a poppy seed bagel in one hand. “Want something to eat?” He offered Olivia the bottom half, the part without a bite in it.

  Mike studied her. “How long have you been sleeping here?”

  She shrugged and scooched forward to stand, but her body screamed in rebellion at the sudden movement.

  Want me to walk you to the bedroom?” Mike offered.

  “No,” she said resolutely. She stood and took a step, discovering her foot had fallen asleep. “Okay. Yes.”

  Mike slung her arm awkwardly over his and they walked like mismatched potato sack racers.

  “I’m going to take a shower.” Olivia hobbled along, leaning against him.

  Mike offered to start it for her. As he jiggled the handles to warm the water, Olivia stripped. She let her clothes lay just as they’d fallen. The faded jeans and sweater she’d worn, the silky bra and black panties. When she stepped into the shower, she caught Mike’s eyes appraising her, and she remembered watching Jake study her naked form the night they’d made love. Last night? No. Two nights ago, now.

  The warm, cleansing water cascaded over her. She reached for her poufy bath sponge, massaging the sweet-smelling body gel across her shoulders, down her forearms, across her breasts. She remembered having knocked at the door as Jake had showered in the hotel bathroom.

  “Do you feel better?” Mike asked loudly, above the din of the water.

  She hadn’t realized he was still there.

  “I do, Mike. Thank you.”

  “Good. You had me worried.” She started to respond, but Mike spoke again. “Hey, guess what Daniel and I saw this weekend?”

  She murmured a “what” as she lathered the shampoo through her hair. The sweet scent, mixed with the warm steam, felt spa-like.

  “Your hair is soft. Smells like lavender,” he’d said.

  “A giant turkey,” Mike told her, and Olivia sighed deeply and made no effort whatsoever to follow the rest of his story.

  She fell into a bit of a reverie, yielding to the comforting touch of the bath sponge and the soft caress of the body wash, until she registered Mike’s voice calling to her again.

  “Olivia. Olivia?”

  “Yes, Mike?”

  “Daniel says he’s starving. I’m going to make him a grilled cheese sandwich. Would you like one?”

  “Oh, yes.” She hadn’t eaten anything since the soup on Friday night. “I would love one. And a Diet Coke. On ice.”

  “Coming right up.” She heard the bathroom door shut as Mike left.

  Moments later, feeling deliciously clean and remarkably hungry, Olivia stepped into the kitchen. She smelled the nutty scent of toasting cheese and touched her stomach as if to reassure it food was on the way. Mike had tidied up the stove, cleaning the soup pot, and had three white plates and paper napkins set out on the countertop. Olivia paused in the entryway, taking in the hominess of the scene before her. She watched Mike as he stood hunched over the center island, scribbling a note.

  “Just writing a list for the grocery store. I can go if you don’t feel up to it,” he offered.

  “Thanks. I know we’re out of orange juice.”

  “Yep, and cereal, too.”

  She watched him. He was a good man. Dependable, like a Nissan Sentra.

  He gave her a banal wink. “Oh, and eggs.” He waved the pen as he spoke.

  Olivia stepped closer. The pen. He was holding the pen with the American Inn hotel logo and phone number. She hadn’t even realized she’d brought it home. She felt a sharp physical pain, as though her chest were constricting. She wanted to rip that damn ballpoint pen out of his hands, and…what? Break it in two? Throw it in the trash? Put it in her keepsake box? Suddenly, she felt weary again.

  “I don’t think I will eat lunch, after all.” She turned back toward their bedroom.

  Mike watched her. His eyes showed concern. He said something, but it didn’t register.

  She plodded back to the bedroom and spied the oatmeal-colored fleece blanket she’d bought on sale last fall. Olivia lay down crosswise on the bed, curled in a tight little ball, and pulled the blanket over her.

  “It’s okay. Just breathe,” she repeated, over and over, until she fell back to sleep.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  IT HAD TAKEN A WEEK, but by the time Olivia drove home the next Friday, she’d manufactured enough energy to throw together a home-cooked meal, even if it was simply boiling noodles and microwaving a jar of canned pasta sauce. In the freezer, she found a loaf of garlic bread she didn’t remember buying and a box of asparagus spears. Surveying the cobbled-together ingredients, she felt just the slightest bit normal.

  She anticipated the call to Mike, telling him there would be no need to stop at Boston Market tonight, and started simultaneously boiling the water and rummaging through the stack of piled-up mail. The bulk of it, the sales circulars and credit card offerings, went right into the trash. The only piece that seemed to need attention was an innocuous envelope from the school addressed to the parents of Daniel Reich.

  Daniel was missing eight lab assignments in chemistry and was on the verge of failing the class. Involuntarily, Olivia’s hands formed into tense fists, and she slammed them on the countertop.

  The phone rang immediately after, and Olivia jumped to answer it as though it would be the school clearing up some misunderstanding. But it was Marti inviting her and Mike for an impromptu cocktail later in the night.

  Olivia begged off. “I need to work with Daniel on something.”

  Olivia wasn’t thinking clearly or she would have remembered Marti fed on vague. Marti prodded at Olivia until she revealed the letter and its contents.

  “You always overreact,” Marti said.

  “What?”

  “Let me tell you a story about Anna.”

  Olivia rolled her eyes, which only caused her to notice the thick layer of dust covering the light fixture above the center island.

  “Last semester,” Marti began, “I discovered Anna was late turning in an Advanced Placement history assignment on Fort Wagner in South Carolina.”

  “Mmm hmm.” Olivia tapped her index finger against her lips in staccato beats.

  “It turns out the reason she was a day late was she felt there wasn’t enough source material in her regular book, so she took an extra day to look online for some primary sources. In fact, the paper needed to be four pages, but Anna wrote six.”

  Olivia paused to make certain she could keep her voice even, then said, “Marti, what in the world are you talking about?”

  “I’m just saying Anna was really doing quite well and there was no need to worry.”

  “You are using the razor-thin pretense of discussing school to brag about what a wonderful student Anna is, which I already knew, and which I am not particularly interested in hearing about just now.”

  “No. I’m only saying—”

  Olivia cut her off. “Are you seriously suggesting the reason Daniel is in danger of failing chemistry is because he’s doing additional work that he’s too modest to let the teacher know about?”

  “Well, aren’t you
feisty today?” Marti said.

  Olivia thought about the question, and for the first time in a week, she felt a small smile coming on. “I am. Aren’t I?” She was genuinely surprised and pleased. “Marti, I will take that as a compliment. Now I’m going to hang up and figure out what is going on with Daniel.”

  The women said good-bye pleasantly enough, and Olivia preheated the oven for the bread before she went on a hunt for her son to discuss chemistry.

  ***

  Daniel seemed as surprised by the letter as she was.

  “You don’t usually miss assignments.” She handed him the notice on the ugly goldenrod school stationery.

  He lay on his stomach, textbook to his right, iPhone to his left, his casted leg draped off the right edge of the bed. “I didn’t know, Mom. I’ll take care of it.”

  “What do you mean you didn’t know you hadn’t turned in these labs?”

  “I thought my partner was handling it.”

  Olivia stepped forward. His jeans lay in a tangled ball at her feet. She reached down and began righting them. “Is your partner doing all the work?”

  “No. We both are. I just thought she was handing them in.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Some girl. You don’t know her.”

  “Is it Becca?”

  “How do you know Becca?” he asked, turning to sit up, which was a process with the ungainly cast.

  “Nancy mentioned something, or maybe Marti.”

  “I’d appreciate it if your friends didn’t discuss my social life.”

  “So, who is your lab partner?” Olivia steered the conversation away from her and her friends’ possible misdoings.